Look For The Helpers
By: Tara Figgins
I grew up watching Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. I have memories of staying home sick from school, lying on the couch in my upstate New York childhood home, fascinated by Fred Rogers’ gentleness and the way he led children through a world of imagination and learning with such tenderness and care.
Fred Rogers coined a famous phrase that would become a lifeline to me in adulthood—when a community that was supposed to be safe became my greatest danger, and I would have to survive what happens when people who claim to follow Christ do harmful and sinful things.
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”
Dear pastor and pastor’s family, dear leader in the Church, might I encourage you today—in the midst of your most devastating moment, your deepest betrayal, when darkness seems to be pressing in around you—to look for the helpers.
What my family and I found to be true was that, in the aftermath of chaos, people showed up.
People who listened.
People who sat with us in our grief.
People who believed the truth when we felt surrounded by a sea of deceit.
Counselors stepped in. Advisors came alongside us. Pastors and trusted spiritual leaders helped us find our footing when we could barely tell which way was up.
And then there was an entire ministry specifically created to care for pastors and ministry families walking through situations almost exactly like ours.
Imagine that.
An entire ministry designed to help pastors and their families survive being wounded by their churches.
The fact that there is even a need for such a ministry is mind-blowing and deeply heartbreaking. There are enough pastors, spouses, and children who have experienced betrayal, abuse of power, forced exits, manipulation, and devastating church conflict that people have devoted their lives to helping them through the aftermath.
That reality should grieve us because it deeply grieves the One who made us.
But in our darkest season, their existence became a profound mercy.
Before we ever knew we would need them, resources were being written. Counselors were being trained. People were learning how to walk into the wreckage church wounds can leave behind.
God had helpers in place before we even knew we would need help.
They could not undo what happened.
But they helped us survive it.
They helped us name what was true and reminded us that the end of one painful chapter did not have to be the end of our life with God, our calling, or our hope.
When I look at Scripture, I realize this is so often the way of God.
In the darkest chapters, there are helpers.
When David was being hunted by Saul—the very king he had faithfully served—God gave him Jonathan. Jonathan could not make Saul repent or erase the danger.
But Scripture tells us Jonathan went to David and “strengthened his hand in God.”
What a stunning picture of a helper.
Sometimes a helper cannot fix what happened or bring justice overnight.
But they can find you in the wilderness and strengthen your hand in God.
When Elijah collapsed beneath the weight of fear and exhaustion, God sent care. Food. Water. Rest. And the quiet reassurance of His presence.
When Paul was distrusted because of his past, Barnabas stepped forward and spoke on his behalf. He was willing to stand beside someone others were afraid to trust.
And when the man on the road to Jericho was beaten, stripped, and left wounded, Jesus tells us help came through someone willing to stop.
The Samaritan saw him.
Drew near.
Bound his wounds.
Carried him.
The helper did not stand at a distance and debate whether the wounded man should be hurting this badly.
He came near.
Perhaps that is one of the most Christlike things a person can do for someone wounded by the Church.
Come near.
Church wounds have a unique way of disorienting us because the place where we expected safety, truth, and the character of Christ can become intertwined with fear, manipulation, betrayal, or abuse of power.
You may question your discernment.
You may replay conversations a thousand times.
You may wonder how people you loved could believe things about you that simply are not true.
You may even wonder where God is in all of it.
Look for the helpers.
Not because they erase the tragedy or make the sin insignificant.
Look for them because they are evidence that evil has not swallowed everything.
There are still people telling the truth.
There are still pastors who shepherd rather than control.
There are still counselors who will patiently help you untangle what happened.
There are still friends who will sit with you in your grief.
There are still Jonathans willing to find you in the wilderness and strengthen your hand in God.
There are still Barnabases willing to stand beside you.
There are still Samaritans willing to come near and tend to wounds they did not cause.
Dear wounded pastor, ministry leader, wife, husband, or child— The people who harmed you are not the entirety of the Church.
The loudest voices are not the only voices. And the ones who misrepresented Christ to you do not get the final word on who Christ is.
Jesus is still the Good Shepherd.
He is still near to the brokenhearted.
He is still a refuge for the oppressed.
And sometimes, in the darkest seasons of our lives, His care arrives through ordinary people who choose to show up. So when the darkness feels all-consuming and betrayal has made you suspicious of every outstretched hand, look carefully.
There may be a Jonathan walking into your wilderness.
There may be a Barnabas preparing to stand beside you.
There may be a Samaritan already on the road toward you.
Look for the helpers.
They will not be your Savior. But they may be one of the ways your Savior reminds you that He has not abandoned you.
And perhaps one day, when your own wounds have begun to heal and your feet feel steady beneath you again, you will look across the wilderness and see someone else barely holding on.
You will remember.
You will draw near.
You will strengthen their hand in God.
You will become a helper.
